Reverse Dungeon

The elf shot into the air as though gravity itself had loosened its grip on him.

Elven magic drew upon the power of spirits. At the very least, this elf had formed a contract with a wind spirit.

Ian raised his bow.

His high-level archery skill no longer merely granted flawless posture and precision—it had evolved into rapid-fire mastery.

The instant the string snapped, arrows blurred through the air.

In the blink of an eye, the sand mole resembled a pincushion.

The creature died instantly.

Twitch.

Blood leaked from countless punctures across the sand mole’s massive body. Deprived of moisture, the corpse dried and hardened almost immediately.

The elf landed atop the carcass and slid down it like a child on a playground slide, grumbling all the while.

“You know, I’m considered one of the older elves. Wherever I go among my people, I’m treated like an elder. This is elder abuse. Genuine elder abuse....”

“You did great, grandpa.”

Too lazy to say anything more sincere, Ian offered casual praise.

“......!”

The elf froze in visible shock.

While he stood there stunned, Ian placed a hand against the sand mole’s corpse. Holy light spread across the hardened body before dissolving into radiant particles that drifted skyward.

‘If I just dragged chunks of this thing back and announced, “Look, sand moles make excellent firewood,” the villagers would obviously burn the cursed remains and end up corrupted by magic.’

Sure, it would’ve been an efficient way to wipe out the entire village.

But Ian intended to clear this quest peacefully.

‘Besides, Keith would never allow the massacre route anyway....’

Most of the NPCs in this village were annoying.

Not all of them, though. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

There was one in particular Ian had grown unexpectedly attached to.

Getting emotionally invested in a low-priority background NPC was admittedly ridiculous, but who cared? This world was his game.

Reality never bent the way Ian wanted.

This place did.

Here, nearly every variable could be controlled. In some ways, game characters were more rational—and more decent—than real people.

Well, they had to pass the Game Content Management Committee review, after all.

“Keith, can you carry that?”

“Yes. Easily.”

“Then let’s bring it with us.”

If they cut the corpse apart, it would fit neatly into the inventory.

But that would take too long.

In the game, all you had to do was press the “chop” button and wait. Reality, unfortunately, required physical labor.

Besides, the village chief had never specifically asked for chopped firewood.

‘And if he complains, we can always cut it up later.’

Keith effortlessly hoisted the massive sand mole onto his shoulders and rose to his feet with a low grunt.

The enormous corpse cast a shadow over Ian, blocking the sun entirely. For a moment, it looked as though a mountain had stood up and started walking.

People said ants could carry over fifty times their own body weight.

Maybe their size made it difficult to appreciate, but ants were terrifyingly strong creatures.

Watching Keith now, Ian felt like an ant witnessing another ant’s absurd feat of strength.

He followed after him.

The journey back would be long, and riding the camels was out of the question. Keith could endure the weight. The camels definitely could not.

Still, unlike their miserable first trek through the desert, they weren’t completely powerless this time.

Ian reached into his inventory and pulled out a bottle of the “Well of Life.”

‘Might as well use them. I’ve got an entire stack anyway.’

It wasn’t as though Ian planned on challenging the demon race ninety-nine times himself.

That was Keith’s responsibility.

This questline included no exceptions.

After uncorking the bottle and drinking it down, Ian immediately felt exhaustion melt from his body. Even the blazing desert heat seemed gentler.

He pulled out another bottle and handed it to Keith.

Keith carefully lowered the sand mole corpse before accepting it.

As the sun dipped lower, the desert sky burned crimson.

The absurdly handsome man standing before him tipped back the potion bottle. His Adam’s apple moved with every swallow, making the scene resemble an advertisement shot.

“Thank you, Lord Ian.”

‘Eat well and grow strong.’

Feeling oddly satisfied, Ian nodded.

In a rare burst of generosity, he took out another bottle and tossed it toward the elf.

“For me? You’re giving this to me? I’m the one who sold it to you....”

“If you don’t want it, forget it.”

‘Then keep up using spirit magic alone.’

Ian refused to feel guilty about it.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t want it. My favorite customer really is generous. Excellent leadership too—you know exactly when to use the carrot and the stick.”

The elf flashed a flattering grin.

Ian had only been half-listening, but something caught his attention.

“When exactly have I ever used a stick?”

“......?”

The elf blinked in surprise.

Even Keith turned to look at Ian.

‘......?’

This man constantly praised him as a saint and an agent of the gods, so why did he always ignore it whenever Ian’s reputation was being slandered?

“Well... Lord Ian doesn’t really use sticks,” the elf said carefully. “You’re always compassionate and merciful. Embracing all living things and all that.”

“Exactly. That’s what I thought too.”

“.......”

Ian genuinely couldn’t understand their reactions.

He had done nothing but show kindness to the two of them.

Keith hoisted the sand mole back onto his shoulders.

“However, Lord Ian, may I offer a humble piece of advice?”

“Go ahead.”

“You should not listen only to pleasant words. Bitter medicine benefits the body, and harsh truths may also prove necessary. Your nature is compassionate and heroic, but at times I feel the impurities of the mortal world cloud the brilliance of your soul.”

“When have you ever said anything pleasant to me?”

“......?”

Now Keith looked honestly confused.

“Have I not always praised you?”

‘......?’

“Do you actually know what the word ‘praise’ means?”

Ian was sincerely curious.

“As much as you seem to understand the word ‘stick’....”

“Where exactly is the respect in the way you speak to me? Did you address the Pope like this too?”

“How could I possibly treat him the same way I treat you...?”

“So you respected the Pope more.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I’m supposed to be an agent of the gods, aren’t I? Shouldn’t you show proper reverence?”

“Please don’t say such painful things.... If I have been lacking, I will correct myself.”

“Then start by fixing your tone!”

“I already respect you more than any saint on the continent....”

“Your tone first!”

Despite Ian’s irritation, they returned safely to the oasis village.

When they arrived once more at the village chief’s house, the large man stared at the enormous carcass in utter disbelief.

“What... is that?”

“Firewood.”

“No, wait. That’s not... Don’t tell me that’s a sand mole?”

“It is.”

“Good heavens!”

The man clutched his head with both hands.

“You hunted a sand mole? Just the three of you?”

Technically, Ian had done almost everything himself, but correcting him sounded bothersome.

“This should solve your firewood problem for the next year. Can we come in now?”

“Of course, of course.... Please, come in. Ah—I mean, yes, welcome.”

The man’s attitude became noticeably more respectful.

After ushering them inside, he kept glancing nervously between the trio and the massive sand mole corpse, as though still struggling to believe what he was seeing.

“Dad? We have guests?”

A voice drifted down from upstairs.

Moments later, a girl around Momisia’s age peeked over the railing from the second floor.

“Hello,” Ian greeted her.

The girl instantly hid half her face behind her twin ponytails, clearly wary of strangers.

‘Smile.’

Ian discreetly jabbed Keith in the side.

Keith offered a soft, gentle smile.

After sneaking another glance at him, the girl shyly lowered her hair.

“H-Hi. I’m Lily. The chief’s daughter.”

Her cheeks turned bright red as she introduced herself.

‘The village chief’s daughter, Lily.’

She was the NPC who triggered the Desert Tower questline.

Outside, villagers had already begun gathering around the sand mole carcass. Seeing someone casually carrying such a monster through the village was hardly an everyday occurrence.

As soon as the outsiders entered the house, the villagers crowded around the corpse, chattering excitedly.

“Chief, what is that thing?”

“The outsiders really hunted it? How?!”

“Everyone, disperse! Why are you all making such noise this late at night?!”

The chief looked completely overwhelmed as he chased the crowd away.

By the time he returned, exhaustion was written plainly across his face.

“You must all be hungry. I don’t have much to offer, but... would porridge be acceptable?”

“Anything’s fine,” Ian answered.

“I’ll prepare your rooms while you eat.”

The chief set three bowls of steaming porridge on the table, along with utensils, before heading back upstairs.

The porridge was little more than thickened gruel.

After spending the entire day chewing dried jerky under the desert sun, even something this plain sounded comforting.

The elf absentmindedly picked up his spoon.

Just as he was about to take a bite, Ian spoke.

“Don’t eat that.”

“Why not? I’m starving.”

“It’s drugged.”

“......!”